


Of Darkness I am Born

by MercurialBianca_TheHonorableMrsMcCarthy



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Backstory, F/M, Military Backstory, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-27 07:55:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8393428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercurialBianca_TheHonorableMrsMcCarthy/pseuds/MercurialBianca_TheHonorableMrsMcCarthy
Summary: Jack Robinson's past and his future converge in the Autumn of 1929. He has a critical decision to make. Will he follow the night, or wait for the sun? A bit of speculation on why we know so little about our Detective Inspector's past and the month between Blood at the Wheel and Juana the Mad. Who doesn't love a bit of the supernatural in October?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CollingwoodGirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CollingwoodGirl/gifts).



> You, darkness, of whom I am born–
> 
> I love you more than the flame  
> that limits the world  
> to the circle it illuminates  
> and excludes all the rest.
> 
> But the dark embraces everything:  
> shapes and shadows, creatures and me,  
> people, nations–just as they are.
> 
> It let’s me imagine  
> a great presence stirring beside me.
> 
> I believe in the night.
> 
> Rainer Maria Rilke

Prologue - October, 1917

Mother Nature’s early evening mist had become ominous as it joined forces with the thick, man-made smoke, of the tanks and artillery. For Corporeal Jack Robinson the acrid combination helped to stave off any hunger he probably should have felt. They had been out in the trenches for hours now. He imagined it was probably supper time. If one had those luxuries. 

The heavy mist was a brief reprieve from the endless rain of the last three days. The mud and muck around him had become fetid. He was covered in blood and not certain whose it was. He knew he had been hit with shrapnel, but he was at least able to move his hands and could wiggle his toes, so he told himself he was fine. With night coming on, he would know soon enough. The war angels had become a regular sight to his troop of late. No longer the whispers of villagers or something to tell children in fairy tales. The angels had become all too real.

Reinforcements had arrived to shore up the German defenses four days ago. Then the weather turned against them as his regiment had been caught on the wrong side of a sudden storm. It was in the antelucan of the following day that they had first appeared.

As the night watch had reported, they had appeared to be a group of refugees coming out of the copse of trees. However, the malevolence they provoked was not that of a family bombed out of their homes, but something stronger and more primal. They swiftly descended on the wounded. And then, they revealed their true nature. With precision, they selected those whose injuries would likely be fatal and feasted.

Had the evidence not been there for all to see by the light of day the men would have been declared mad, but there was no mistaking the teeth marks at either the carotid or femoral arteries. The deceased were exsanguinated.  
  


Chapter one - Early March, 1929

The wind had picked up. The dried and colorful leaves on the ground swirled up into small flurries seeming to reach out to their comrades that stubbornly clung to the branches above. The transition from the hot, heady, warm breezes of summer to the crisp, brittle air of winter was only  just beginning. Autumn was just beginning to tease the senses. Nevertheless, Jack Robinson felt a chill up his spine and the hairs on the back of his neck bristled.

The sun was just setting and he was alone as he walked past the park on his way home from the station. Dread began to settle into his stomach.  _ Not now _ , he silently begged. Although to whom he sent his pleas he couldn’t say. He had not prayed to any god in years. After what happened during the war, he saw no point.

A larger gust blew and knocked his beloved fedora off of his head. He scampered after it, catching up to it at the trunk of a nearby tree. It was when he bent down to retrieve it that he knew he was no longer alone. He straightened slowly, not cautiously. If she had come to do him harm, she already would have.

She was still beautiful. How could she not be? She stood in the final crepuscular light of the day which gave her skin an ethereal appearance that would have passed for poetry to anyone else, but Jack knew better. He knew the secret behind that sort of ethereal beauty. Her raven hair, so black as to appear almost blue, framed her face in tight, expertly wrought waves like an actress on the silver screen. It was a rare nod to modernity for her. Her fur trimmed cloak was timeless and hung from her rounded shoulders obscuring the view of her figure. But Jack didn’t need to see it to remember every soft curve she possessed. The fullness of her breasts and hips, so unfashionable now, had made her a legendary heartbreaker in another age. He caught a glimpse of ankle. Another nod to modernity. Would wonders never cease.

“Why are you here, Branwyn?” 

“Well that is not a particularly warm greeting. I thought the antipodes were supposed to be more jovial than stodgy old Britain? Naturally, the answer to your query is that I am here because I missed you.”

“You promised.”

“I am 200 years old. At this age, promises are merely suggestions. Now my dear Wolfgang, didn’t you miss me, even a little?”

“Please, don’t. And no one aside from my grandmother ever called me Wolfgang. I go by Jack and you know it.”

“Your grandmother was lovely, if I recall correctly. Why you insist on being called by such an ordinary name like Jack, I will never understand. Johannes Wolfgang has a wonderful old world power behind it. Oh, do not pout, it is so unbecoming. Fine, forever more, I would not deign but to call you anything but Jack. Now really, where are your manners? Is it truly a surprise that an old friend might want to stop in for a visit? They do visit friends in this decade, don’t they? Not all manners have been lost, surely?

“Yes, friends do. But you, halfway around the world and over ten years later? That is less common amongst  _ friends _ .”

“Now you sound like you did miss me. Perhaps, just a tad, my dearest? Again, darling Jack, for someone my age, a decade is a blink of an eye. I do love the thought that you might have missed me, even just a little. At the very least, I am sure there are areas of your person that might have missed me. And I would be lying if I said your kisses were not some of the best this century. Your kisses on my skin were the closest to sunshine I had felt in decades. The men of this era do everything far too quickly for my tastes, but you Wolf...Jack, you always took your time.”

Jack heard a twig snap and nervously looked around. A rabbit rose up on it’s haunches before bolting further into the park. Fortunately, the evening was a quiet one so they remained alone. However, there was no guarantee how well their luck might hold out.

He turned back to face her.

“If you have come calling for me specifically, we might as well continue this,  _ reunion _ , at my home - it’s not far from here. But you probably already knew that.”

He offered her his arm and together they made their way through the night. Falling into step as if no time had passed at all.

For two creatures of the night like themselves, no time really had.  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The evening continues with the vampire Branwyn and our delicious enigma, Detective Inspector Jack Robinson. Small histories are revealed.

There was a warm glow emanating from the windows on the first floor. A wisp of smoke escaped from the chimney and twisted on the breeze. The scent of home-fires tickled the senses as Jack escorted Branwyn past the entrance, to a walkway that wrapped around the side of the house. 

The walkway led behind the main house to a much smaller and decidedly less welcoming cottage. Jack fumbled with his keys a moment as he brought them out of the pocket of his well-worn trench coat. Branwyn saw the slight tremble as he unlocked the door. Anyone else would have missed the subtlety of the gesture. Surely Jack couldn’t be frightened of her?

He opened the door and crossed the threshold alone. He turned back to see her standing there expectantly. Even with the new modern look she seemed out of place. As if a photographer had used a painted back drop behind her. But she didn’t look lost or frail. No, Branwyn had a commanding presence, whether it was a battlefield or a tiny cottage in Richmond. For the first time in over a week his lips slightly upturned. She was right, a part of him had missed her. 

“I suppose it’s fitting that the first woman to enter this cottage, other than the landlady, would be you. After all, if it weren’t for you I would not have had a need to move into my cousin’s guest cottage. ”

“If it weren’t for me, you would have been buried in a mass grave in Ypres, Jack. But you know I can’t enter yet. Shall we continue this conversation in private, or is your landlady familiar with all of your secrets?”

Just as quickly as it had come, his smile was replaced by a grimace with a hint of sadness. 

“Of course, Branwyn. You are welcome to enter my home. My savior, my maker.”

She crossed the threshold but remained in what amounted to the foyer. The cottage was dark and cold, but her keen eyesight told her it was tidy. It had just enough furnishings to avoid suspicion from the landlady or any other prying eyes. 

Jack hung up his coat and hat before he went about the business of turning on the lights in the parlour. He loosened his tie, then shrugged out of his suit jacket, going through the regular motions of his day as if she wasn’t there. She knew him well enough to wait, he would talk when he was ready.

She moved to sit on the practically untouched guest chair, his own chair was obvious from the sags and scuffs. They were the marks of one who had a set routine. She had always been struck by his personal rituals. They always hinted at something more than a desire to keep things orderly.

She sat and watched as he removed his cuff links and rolled up his shirtsleeves. Exactly four precise rolls on each side. Then he crouched in front of the fireplace and lit the logs that were sitting there in anticipation. As the crackles and pops steadied to the familiar hum of a fire, Jack sat staring at the flames. This must have completed his nightly ritual, because at last he broke the silence.

“Why did you really come here?”

“Jack, I can feel you. When you drank my blood that day it connected us. I will always be able to feel you. But I kept my word not to seek you out unless you were in danger.”

He turned toward her slightly. His profile partially made into a silhouette by the light of the flames.

“Until now, obviously. You can see I am in no danger at the moment. And I’m a police officer, one could argue I put my body in danger every single day.”

“Your body perhaps, but not your heart.  And your heart called to me in a way it never has before. Not since that night France. Jack, your heart is breaking. It’s time to make a choice.”

She rose from the chair, shedding her coat in one fluid motion before she joined him at the hearth. The glow from the fire amplified the tears in his eyes and for a moment, they were consumed by the flames. 

Without further words, she extended her hand to him and she gently pulled him up to his feet. It was the first time since their reunion that they were able to pause and look each other in the eye. Her deep brown eyes were filled with flecks of gold and green could hypnotize, whether she was intentionally glamouring someone or not. He had seen her seduce women for pleasure and glamour men to do her bidding. And sometimes, vice versa. Although never Jack. 

He pulled her up to him and their lips met tentatively, ten years was a long time between kisses, even for her. Her lips were engorged, and warmer than expected, so he knew she must have fed earlier. Something awoke deep within him and the kiss intensified. Lips parted and tongues mingled and for the first time, the little cottage was filled with heat from more than the fireplace. 

And, just as she remembered, he tasted of sunshine.

They pulled back to look at each other again. There was such sadness and longing in his eyes, you’d never guess she was the one who was two centuries old. Satisfied their need was mutual, even if not driven by the same motivations, they slid into a tight embrace.

The kiss had unlocked something in him that had been dormant too long. 

His voice was no more than a whisper.

“ Hilf mir zu vergessen, hilf mir mich zu erinnern.”

 

***

She was surprised to find her hands were clumsy as they helped him out of his waistcoat and dress shirt. It felt so wildly intimate. 

Back during the war, she had visited him periodically, following the movements of his unit. Thanks to the added abilities he gained from drinking her blood, Jack was tapped for a covert group of “specialists” that focused on intelligence gathering and special forces operations. The men in this group didn’t bat an eye at Jack’s “shadow angel” and they recognized the asset she was to some of their missions. 

It was after some of these missions that adrenaline was high and the two would slip off together to the woods. In those stolen moments their kisses were deep and slow. Sometimes, the adrenaline was so high they would pull at each other’s clothes, but it didn’t matter whether they were unhurried or frenetic, Jack always pulled up short of intercourse. A marriage was still a marriage and he couldn’t betray his Rosie.

There were no marriage vows to uphold anymore and whomever it was that was causing his heart to hurt he’d made no promises to, so here they were, ten years later, fumbling like young lovers over buttons and hooks. Familiar to each other, yet utterly unexplored at the same time. 

She looked at his face in the firelight, remembering the dashing young soldier he had been. She remembered he was covered in soot, muck and blood, but it had only served to make his eyes more vibrant. And the way he had looked up at her, even with her fangs sharp and lips wet with anticipation of the feast, his eyes were wide with anticipation. That had surprised her, he hadn’t looked at her in terror but a mix of resignation and fascination.

The look on his face now, was not that different.

Their pace slowed and the final clothing was removed with reverence. They each took care in unwrapping the other, knowing how long they had both waited for this moment. Her fingers regained their adroitness as she released each button of his union suit. She brushed the soft cotton aside a little further each time, reveling at each glimpse of the flesh underneath. She then trailed kisses down the front of his torso, while her hands guided the suit down his arms. 

She hadn’t take a human lover in years and had forgotten just how alive they smelled as their pulses quickened and the blood raced to their intimate organs. 

It was almost too much. 

She’d been drawn to him all those years ago as soon as they had emerged from their spot in the trees. She’d never really been able to explain to him that it wasn’t his beauty that had stopped her from ending his pain that night on the battlefield. His blood had smelled like flowers, she had recognized the scent of Baumgarten, the blood of his family. She didn’t fully understand the significance but she couldn’t deny her attraction to it or to him.   
She teased his arousal through the cotton, more because she didn't’ trust herself that close to his femoral artery than to inflame him.  As she stood, she let her hands slide down his backside, slipping the final section of the garment off. 

Their kisses gained in intensity until finally she backed Jack onto the closest chair and climbed on top of him. They quickly settled into a rhythm and years of pent up desire worked them into a frenzy. As she came closer to release her fangs sprung out. She nuzzled Jack’s neck to cover up their emergence as to not alarm him. But Jack’s senses were better than that. His voice was husky, thick with lust.

“Do it, Branwyn, taste me.”

She closed her eyes and bit into his shoulder, it was the safest way to avoid any major arteries. He tasted amazing, like nothing she’d ever known. Somehow, she’d always known he would. But being here with him in his homeland, this place that was teeming with life. She realized he tasted of the exotic grasses and flowers she’d encountered since arriving. He tasted of acacia and eucalyptus. And as she came she could feel the lingering warmth of his summer flow through her perpetual autumn. 

She felt him shudder against her and then his hot tears on her shoulder. He still shed human tears for now. She was grateful that even his tears felt like sunlight on her skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The German loosely translates to "help me to forget, help me to remember." Thanks to [Kanste](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kanste) for sparing us all the Google Translate version.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not your average pillow talk after their passionate reunion. Branwyn finally makes Jack come clean about his feelings for Phryne.

“Are you ready to talk about her yet?”

Sometime during the night they had ended up on the rug in front of the fire. They were lying face to face under a blanket and she was playing with the soft waves of his hair. He was drowsy but awake.

“Not that I didn’t enjoy providing you with multiple distractions this evening, Jack. I will admit that you were definitely worth the wait. Whoever this woman is—it is a woman, isn’t it?”

Jack shot her an incredulous look and she shrugged her shoulders. After a couple of hundred years of seeing the world, she found nothing surprised her when it came to love. She continued, unruffled.

“What I intended to say, Jack, is that whoever this woman is, she would have to be a fool to turn you away.”

In the firelight she could see him transition from embarrassment at the praise, to a flash of anger, to sadness. He took a deep breath to regain his composure.

“It’s not her fault. The problem is entirely my own doing. I am the old-fashioned fool who fell in love with the modern woman. I was incapable of accepting what she could offer. I’m just not wired that way.” His voice was gravely, whether from sleepiness or emotion, she couldn’t have been certain.

Branwyn moved her hand from its lazy exploration of his hair to cupping his cheek. She loved the feel of his chiseled cheekbones against the meat of her palm. “What way, Jack? What is it that she offered you?”

Jack had always been thoughtful, a man who liked to be certain of his thoughts before sharing them. The moments ticked by as he tried to articulate the dilemma he was having. The tension punctuated with the occasional pop from the fireplace, the rustling of the dried leaves outside the window, and somewhere a dog began to howl.

He had rolled to his back in contemplation. She continued to trace patterns on his chest and arm while she waited, admiring his thin but muscular frame. When he finally spoke again, his voice was a low rumble.  “I don’t appear to be someone who can take on multiple lovers at the same time. And...and it’s hard for me to understand someone who does.”

She shifted his head so that she could look him in the eyes. “Is that what you wanted from tonight? To understand how to find pleasure in physical desire when you love another?” She didn’t really need his words as an answer, she could feel his body temperature fluctuate, a very human reaction.

“I don’t know, perhaps?” Her hand stilled from its caresses and Jack’s eyes grew wide as he realized what he had said and how callously he had said it. “I mean, I’ve always desired you. Your beauty is ethereal and your strength goes beyond the physical...”

He looked at her with growing alarm as he realized how much he was rambling. She removed her hand from his face and cocked an eyebrow. He rose on his elbow to look at her.

“I am so sorry, Branwyn. I feel I have taken a liberty. This was a terrible idea—not you, that was amazing, you're amazing. I…”

She raised a finger to his lips to silence him. She was more amused than upset about his declarations regarding his feelings for her.

“Jack, it’s true I have desired you since that fateful first meeting, and I will always care for you. We are bonded in blood and nothing will change that. However, I am not some starry-eyed debutante. I do hope you realize that I have not spent the last decade pining away in the Black Forest awaiting your return.”

He was suitably chastised at that and looked a bit sheepish. His boyish shame was endearing. The warm glow of the fire enhancing the blush on his cheeks. She had to resist the urge to run her fingers into his tousled locks and plant kisses along his inflamed cheeks. After all, she was supposed to be teaching him a lesson and that was certainly a mixed message.

“No, of course not.” His tone and facial expression told her he hadn’t expected that of her, but he also felt a bit of disappointment to know she hadn’t. He really was one of the most expressive humans she had ever encountered. She felt she needed to do a bit of clarifying herself now.

“I have always known that you do not fall in love easily or lightly, Jack. Our stolen kisses in the woods, always stopping short of consummation, were more than a lesson in patience and anticipation. Those frustrating moments taught me how sacred you view the act of love-making. And, in truth, I have harbored a jealousy for your capacity in that regard. It is a gift, truly. But like all gifts, it can come with more than you bargained for. Tell me, what did you learn tonight?”

He turned his eyes back to her and they sat there a moment, their eyes searching each other’s, consuming each other, whether to seek a truth or convey one, neither could say.

“Branwyn, I have always loved you, and I’m likely a fool to have resisted you all these years. An over-romantic sap not to accept your final gift and fall completely into your embrace.”

He was the first to break the gaze. “But I am not in love with you.”

“Is that ultimately the kind of love _she_ offered you? A place in her bed, a partner in her passions, but not her heart?”

“Not in so many words.”

“In any words, Jack? Did you actually offer yourself up and lay your heart bare, only to have her rebuff you?”

She could feel the depth of his sigh as he dropped his head down in defeat. They were both quiet a few moments, the crackle of the dying embers the only thing filling the silence. When he continued, his voice was thick with emotion.

“We talk about everything else together, except that. At least not directly. But she knows I care for her and she knows those feelings are serious.”

“But Jack, does she know that this goes beyond a deep affection for you? That you have fallen in love with her? More importantly, does she have any idea what it means to love you?” She could still taste the sunshine and flowers of his blood, combined with his sex on her tongue. The thought of a human woman not understanding the delicious complexities of Jack Robinson almost broke her heart.

When he answered, his hesitation and frustration were palatable. She could see the tendons in his jaw worrying as he tried to compose his next thoughts. “I believe so, but I’m not certain. I’m afraid it’s all rather complicated.”

Branwyn sat up and looked down at him. Her dark hair cascaded in waves across her bare breasts. She did not feel the need to cover herself, content to be fully naked in his presence.

“Complicated? So do you think the choice _I_ offer you is a simple one, Jack?”

He dropped his eyes to avoid the intensity of her gaze. Branwyn could no longer stand what she felt was his self-flagellation and brooding. Her irritation with him finally came out in her next words. She launched herself on top of him, straddling his waist letting him feel the warmth of her core and the coolness of her thighs.

“Oh, thank you for reminding me about the thing I miss least about my humanity. My kind rarely mate for life because we understand how fleeting love can be. It is why we choose to love to the fullest always. But my darling Jack, while you have the brooding temperament for a life amongst the shadows, you love too deeply to be suited to an eternity of it.” She ignored his incredulous reaction, warming to her subject.

“Would you have had us be companions, Jack? Partners in shadow? Would you be able to feed next to me without judgment, like a predator? Watch your family grow old and perish? Have your friends slink away from you in fear or turn on you and perhaps even attempt to kill you?” A bitterness she thought she had long buried surfaced.

“Pray, tell me what about all that sounds simple?” She leaned over and practically hissed her next words. “However, if that is your choice, tell me now, beloved, and I can ease your mortal burden.”

She hadn’t meant to get so worked up, but she found she couldn’t stop herself. She sat back up and bared her teeth. She knew she must have looked not unlike their first meeting, lo those many evenings ago. A war angel, terrible and beautiful. She could see it in the look he gave her, that calm resolve and fatalistic curiosity. 

The high-pitched howling grew closer and she briefly shifted to look out the window. All she saw was the branch of the nearby tree tapping against the glass.

The distraction allowed Jack to sit up, enabling him to look her in the eye. He reached out and took her hands into his own. The coolness of her skin was a stark contrast to the heat of her words. 

“Branwyn, please. Of course I know that what you offer isn’t simple. But at least I know what it is, and something about that feels reassuring somehow. You care for me and I for you. Your beauty and passion excite me, but you know it goes beyond that. All those nights on the battlefield, weaving in and out of danger. We shared so much then. You are as intelligent as you are beautiful and really, most men would take me for a fool to not leap into your eternal embrace.” 

She could see he was earnest, that he really believed what he was saying. She raised his hands to her lips and kissed them. She could smell and taste their mingled scents on his hands. A reminder of their passionate evening before now. When he continued, his voice was lower and she could hear the uncertainty he was feeling. She was unprepared for the tightness in her own chest as she realized her feelings for Jack were more complex than she'd realized.

“What terrifies me about Phryne is that I don’t know what’s coming next. Will she love me a night, a week, a month, maybe more, if I’m lucky? Will l eventually be tossed aside by someone younger, stronger, more handsome, more interesting?”

“But it’s love, Jack. There are no guarantees in matters of the heart. For what it is worth, I offer you no more than eternal youth and the secrets of the night. I will not promise you forever either. My feelings for you run deep and we are bound by primal forces, but I offer you no more than what you see before you.” She held out her arms so he could drink in her body astride him. She was pleased to feel the slight twitch of his cock behind her and see his pupils dilate as they took in her naked form. She may not have his heart, but it was she who had enjoyed his body this evening.

“Either one of us could take on different lovers in the future. Or is that what you are really hoping? That draining the last of your humanity will make you care less about that?”

She saw the flicker of acknowledgement pass across his face as he worked his jaw muscles.

“Oh, dear Jack, there is a freedom that you finally embrace about passion. Immortality, and the life force that courses through our bodies like blood, does heighten the body’s ability to give and receive pleasure. However, we are not completely immune to affection and attachment. And not just for people with whom we’ve shared blood.”

Her voice caught, betraying the depth of her own affection for him. The emotion in her voice grabbed Jack’s attention. He closed the distance between them and kissed her softly. She was aware this may be their only night together like this, so she yielded to his kiss. She parted her lips and gently swept her tongue across his lips. She was pleased he responded with deepening the kiss. They sat there a few moments, comforting each other after their emotive outbursts. He spoke against her mouth.

“So then, how do we proceed from here?”

But before she could answer him she heard the first notes of birdsong and realized the time. She continued to nuzzle him, their lips hovering but not touching.

“We’ll have to continue this when I arise this evening, Jack.”

“Yes, of course. My bedroom is safe. I installed very practical and highly unfashionable wooden shutters that block out the light. Everyone assumes it’s because of my odd policemen’s hours.”

“Then, I suppose it’s time to finally take me to bed, Jack Robinson.”

And as they made their way down the hall of Jack’s tiny cottage, a fox screamed in frustration.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has been more of a challenge than I ever anticipated. Thank you dear readers for your patience and sticking with me. I think I have some idea now of where this is headed now, so hopefully it won't be months until the next chapter. Eternal thanks to [Fire_Sign](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Sign/profile) for encouraging me and to [Sarahtoo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarahtoo/profile) for being an absolute ace of a beta.

**Author's Note:**

> "There's not a word yet, for old friends who've just met."   
> ― Jim Henson, "I'm Going To Go Back There Someday"
> 
> Happy Birthday my dear, CollingwoodGirl! What an amazing year it has been! Wishing you love, laughter, and breathless moments, on and off the page. XOXO


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